Thinking
by Amalockh
Summary: FH Deep in thought about unimportant stuff, Mr. Herriman finds out that it can be pointless when someone like Frankie comes along to help you find relief. Only a drabble. summary inside.


To clarify, Fosters isn't mine.

Authors like Dude13 and Azure-tears inspired me to do this. I really love their style of writing and I hope to write like them, provided that I am able to overcome the HUGE problem of "run-on sentences" and sentence construction.

But I digress…this short little one-shot focus on my favorite character, Mr. H, I hope that you will enjoy. It is sort of a drabble. Also, should anyone decide that it would be really funny to flame me whole in a review… I hunt you down, slit your throat, quick and painlessly tear out your heart, and drink from the fountain of blue and red blood that will gush from your body when I have done tearing it to pieces.

Yes, that isthe threat. Keep that in mind, and you will be a happier person. I can do that, because I have the power to see into your soul and take it apart, sending it to the realm of darkness, much like Sephiroth. Well, here's the drabbling story. Drabble on, Xaldin, Drabble on.

* * *

3:00. around this time Mac visits and everything proceeds as normal.

It was a quiet day. Perhaps much too quiet for his tastes but then, why should he question this when he knew damn straight? Why should he wonder to question this serenity of mind that Bloo for the very first time had not caused any trouble today? None of his business anyway, yes, especially when he had many more papers to check, organize, and sign.

In truth, Blooregard Q. Kazoo was a wonder of an imaginary friend. Since he came to Fosters, things have never been the same; occasionally or no, he would hear about a recent string of "atrocities" or unexpected and unexplainable mishaps or disasters that only this tiny bloo blob could cause.

I.E. yesterday, he had to reprimand bloo for once again for instantaneously flooding the house while creating a strange tornado in the laundry room. Frankie and Wilt were caught in the whirlwind of dirty attire and detergent, and neither of them were able to understand how Blooregard cooked up something this complex and repetitively stupid.

He punished bloo by simply forbidding that he couldn't play with that ridiculous paddleball for the next three weeks. Bloo was in a complete state of shock.

Several weeks later, Bloo was at it again. This time, the small stick-like imaginary named Jackie bore witness as a rampaging robot made of a grotesque substance that was the meal served several weeks ago by Frankie, helped by her grandmother, his creator in fact. Bloo clearly had the uncanny ability of outdoing himself without even trying. And this resulted from his absolute witlessness; Mr. Herriman could hardly believe it.

He wondered why they even kept him.

Then it came back to his mind; Mac.

Mac, the 8-year old child, had a good head on his shoulders. He was pertinent; the exact opposite of Bloo, not to mention his creator. Mac was the reason they kept bloo at Fosters from day to day, and Bloo never got adopted.

And thus, did the struggle to keep the house in order enflamed itself.

If it weren't for Mac, they wouldn't keep Bloo here. If it weren't for them-

"Hey, Herriman!"

Someone shouting interrupted his train of thought. His hand stopped writing and he looked up to notice resident Caretaker of the house sticking her hand out hand with a checklist already signed next to each chore.

"Ah well, very good Ms. Francis. Did you finish the dusting?"

"Done," was the dull reply, coupled with her rolling her eyes.

"Mowing the grass on all sides?"

"Yes."

"Clean the fichus?"

"Yes," she said once more, with an exasperated tone in her voice.

"Excellent." He continued, "Have you taken into account your dish-washing duties?"

"I did that an hour ago."

"Do it again."

"What?"

"Do not question me, Miss Frances. Just do it. And besides this will give you something to do at the smallest moment of your time."

"SMALLEST moment! Every moment of my time was spent having to clean the toilets along with most of the house!"

"True and true, quite but we cannot overlook any details just because they happen to be the "best we can do". We need these to be more right then that."

With a groan she walked out of the office towards the kitchen with an angry look on her face until she stopped and turned her face to the doorway.

This happened when she stepped out of the room into the foyer. Mac came, and of course they talked a bit before Frankie resumed her own Journey into the kitchen.

For a while Mr. Herriman stared after her till she disappeared behind the doors into the kitchen, then resumed back to his own work.

There were some things in life (or in his own existence) that he couldn't understand. How he felt about Frankie was one of them.

He'd never admit it now, but since who knows when, staring into her face had always filled him with contentment and serenity.

Now wait; don't get the wrong impression, he didn't exactly fall in love with her. But lately, he'd fall into some melodious reverie revolving around her, and he'd lose himself. This imaginary rabbit, and not butler, but the Director of Finances in Foster's, experienced that emotion only attainable to humans.

Oh, whatever was he thinking? These thoughts were trivial and bothersome at best, and he had a lot of important work to do. He really didn't need worry about something like this now.

And besides, Frankie had already known.They shared secret kisses in private while no one was looking. He would usually draw her to him with a stern look, but in the next minute, their lips would be locked. What was the point of thinking about something that already is?

It was stupid, really. Now, he was thinking about Frankie, and hoping that she would come back, and maybe he could apologize.

Whether through some unexplainable mental force of will, Frankie did come back. Hopefully she finished _all _of her chores, he was thinking. Not that the chores mattered. He was thinking only her face and radiant auburn hair. The chores could wait.

Well it was pretty obvious she did, because she walked behind his desk, sat in his lap, gave him something close to a sly, yet angry smile on her face, and wrapped her arms around his neck bringing them together for a long kiss.

Yes, he thought as his tongue slipped in her mouth and he let all logical reason flutter out the window, it was pretty pointless thinking about it.

She parted her lips from his to ask him, "What'cha been thinking about all day? You look kind of deep in thought."

True, he looked a little worried with the recent chain of thoughts that revolved around the worst that happened to Fosters, and the best thing that happened to Fosters. But looking into Frankie's eyes he didn't have to worry anymore.

He gave her a warm smile and said, "It's nothing worth troubling the both of us over." That was the closest he came to telling her "I am sorry".

"You are one crazy old rabbit, you know that?" she asked him with a smirk.

"Yes, yes, I know," he said, smiling, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning down to graze her lips passionately. That kiss lasted longer than his recent string of thoughts. Remarkable.

* * *

There you go. A bone a fide rambling done by the one and only, Stupid legendary Xaldin Horaz of Organization XIII.

Review if you wish, and no flames, please; if you bothered to read the warning at the top then you must know why already. Till then, be on the lookout for more specials done by me.


End file.
